


Cybertron Thanks You For Your Service

by jixie



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Ficlet, Gen, Introspection, Moral Ambiguity, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 09:13:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13714581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jixie/pseuds/jixie
Summary: Glyph was recruited to integrate Decepticon programming into Autobot code. The Twins were recruited as medical experiments.





	Cybertron Thanks You For Your Service

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written 5/2009. Transformers Animated © Hasboro.

Thousands of stellar cycles spent doing modest, low-key jobs for the Ministry of Science and all Glyph had ever wanted was to get off of Cybertron. Like all good Autobots who stayed out of trouble and kept their heads down, she'd long known that eventually her hard work and dedication would get her where she wanted to be.

It wasn't the draw of adventure that made her want to travel... quite the opposite, really. It was the desire to learn, and for some reason, she'd always felt stifled by what Cyberton had to offer.

Naturally, she'd been sorely disappointed when new of reassignment brought, not a far-off planet, but another position in the Ministry. That feeling was briefly offset by the fact that she'd be working along side with some of the greatest processors of all time. _This_ was what she'd graduated from IAST for.

"Mees Red Alert. Please be watching ext-- extar-- incredible skill of flying Autobot!"

There was a crash, followed by a second, equally loud crash.

"You idiot, brother. She can be standing not the gruesome look of your face."

"Wrong-- it is _your_ face brother that is much ugly to look at."

"Come on, kids. Take it outside." '...before you break any more delicate equipment,' went unsaid.

Glyph didn't budge from her station as Red Alert patiently herded the twins out of the lab. 'The twins' -- the obnoxious culmination of their hard work. In the end, she worked under the only other female 'bot on the project. Glyph mostly worked alone, which suited her just fine, although it meant that she only had the briefest moments to meet-- and admire-- high-ranking geniuses such as Wheeljack and Mainframe.

Interpreting and reviewing Decepticon programming code by code, carefully rewriting it... seamlessly combining it with Autobot programs. She had done much of the 'grunt' work, as it were, the fundamental base which more skilled processors had then refined and developed. It reminded her of organic cellular propagation, where two dissimilar cells met and then divided and grew, slowly shaping itself into new life.

It had all been such a _risk_ , such a venture into the unknown. The 'volunteers'-- test subjects-- were undoubtedly the most expendable 'bots one could find on Cybertron. Immigrants from the Paradron colony, they had been destitute factory workers from an Energon refinery. As twins, they shared but one spark between them, which led to that slippery ethical question of whether or not either one was actually fit to be called a robot.

All of this, of course, heavily overshadowed by the fact that they had been built with a protoform developed _off_ of Cybertron. It was the kind of stigma that would undoubtedly haunt them even after they were unleashed as the latest secret weapon against the Decepticons.

How _very convenient_ it had been for the Ministry... that accident in the factory which landed the two in this lab. A little too convenient, perhaps, but no one was stupid enough to spread any of the rumors that they all suspected were true.

There was a flash of orange in the corner of her optics, and then Jetfire was standing next to her. Somewhere along the line he'd shaken Red Alert and Jetstorm, but there was no doubt his brother was nearby.

"Ah, Glyph."

For a nanoclick he took hold of her hand, nodding his head in respect. She snatched her hand away, pulling it to her chestplate as she scampered back.

"Jetfire," it was neither a greeting nor a rebuke. More of a statement. 'There he is. Jetfire.'

"I said _out_ ," Red Alert's tone took a dangerous edge her voice proceeding her as she made her way down the hall. Jetfire grinned, and skipped -- literally, _skipped_ \-- away.

_This_... was what she'd graduated from IAST for?


End file.
